


Mark IV Protective Systems

by bellygunnr



Series: start it up / put him in [4]
Category: Half-Life
Genre: Aliens, Bonus Scenes, Canon-Typical Violence, Deleted Scenes, Guns, HEV Training, M/M, Serious Injuries, Weapons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:13:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26051689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellygunnr/pseuds/bellygunnr
Summary: This is an alternative ending/outcome to Chapter 17 in the fic, You'd Finally Like to Learn. Has a lot of the same concepts, just wildly different tone and events. I was a fair fan of both drafts so I figure, why not just post what could have been?
Relationships: Barney Calhoun/Gordon Freeman
Series: start it up / put him in [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1810111
Kudos: 36





	Mark IV Protective Systems

wakefulness comes in slow waves. the barest hint of consciousness, the awareness of a dream sequence whose contents is slipping away like sand through fingers. an all-encompassing warmth coupled by a blanketing sense of security, the overwhelming feeling of safety so intense that the urge to cry from it is the thing that wakes you up in the end. you blink your eyes open to a blurry, dark world, but Barney is unmistakable.

you're draped atop him, nestled in the solid embrace of his arms. his neck is craned at an uncomfortable angle, soft snores drifting from parted lips, while you're fairly certain that you both have your legs entangled. reluctant to move, you simply turn your head, pressing your nose into the crook of his neck. your eyes flutter closed as you focus on the steady beat of his pulse.

alive, strong. intelligent, humorous. resilient. for every trait you think of, you let a finger fall against his skin. you idly stroke his chest, momentarily distracted by the sheer amount of chest hair he has. it's thick and black, kind of coarse. you're also somewhat fondling his muscles, but Barney did have a lot of them. you were mostly jealous of his chest hair, though. you couldn’t get lucky in every department.

you grasp the bulk of his forearm, running your fingers over his bare skin. curiously, you press down with gentle, prodding motions, confirming the presence of fat and muscle. you freeze when you hear a sharp intake of breath, then a snort.

Barney sits up rather abruptly, taking you with him. his arms fall away so he can rub at his eyes, wiping away the first dredges of sleep. you carefully slide off him and back onto the mattress, though it takes some finagling.

"Wh-- Gordon?" Barney says, his voice thick with sleep. "Did I wake..." he breaks off into a wide yawn, eyes watering at the corners. 

you can't help but think it's the best thing you've ever seen.

in answer, you coil your arms back around his middle, resting your head on his shoulder. no, he didn't wake you up, but you were really enjoying what was going on before. besides, the clock still read a mere six am-- you both could afford to laze around. 

just for a little bit longer.

"Six is too early," Barney slurs. "Mmm... look at your hair, babe," he says, landing a heavy hand on your head. 

fingers parse through curls undoubtedly tangled and frizzied, ruined by sleep. you let him bring certain unruly locks away from your face, which, against your will, you chirp about.

Barney looks at you, eyes shining so bright, curious, and you can't help but hide your face.

you thought you had stamped down that habit-- "habit," your brain corrects bitterly. quite like flapping your hands, it was not something you could control, but it was something that you spent years ironing out of yourself. even under your father's guidance--

gentle, encouraging voice pressed close to your ear, accompanied by a slow rubbing against your shoulder.

Barney was the only person you felt safe to be yourself around.

"Are you alright, Gordon?" Barney murmurs. his hands grasp yours, prying free the fingernails that you had dug into his skin. you nod against his frame.

slowly, you push yourself up, sitting upright. you feel cold without Barney pressed right against your skin.

"I'm okay," you say. "It's hard to explain but... thank you, Barn."

you never liked explaining anything about yourself, so you hope he takes your gratitude at face value. 

instead, he just looks at you, head cocked to the side like a dog with a question. then he relaxes, smiling, and pushes himself closer to you.

he kisses you, so you kiss him back. 

* * *

Dr. Vance rubbed sleep from his eyes for the fifth time in the last twenty minutes. Papers and screens stared back at him, unchanged despite how long he's been trying to work on them. There was a lot here-- all over one Dr. Gordon Freeman, who seemed oblivious to just how well he performed in the HEV suit. The last person to break records during the 'calibration' stage of HEV testing was Dr. Colette Green, and that was years ago.

Thankfully, her mind was deemed "too brilliant" to tack her onto a Survey Team. While she still grew entrenched in Xen, and all things else, she was spared from being trotted aside as fodder. So far, all of the Mark IV HEV suits remained on Earth. The Mark IIIs were still in partial production and circulation while they used the Mark IVs to improve their Xen approach.

He was glad that he did not oversee those tests.

"You need to take a break, Eli."

Azian's quiet tones startles him out of his thoughts. He leans back in his chair, looking up at his wife with a smile. 

"You're right, dear. How long has it been...?" Eli asks, carefully taking his wife's hand to look at her wristwatch. "That long? I must have lost track of time!"

"It's getting late, too. Let's go to bed. Alyx is already asleep," Azian says, spinning Eli's chair around. She kisses the top of his head for good measure.

"You're right. Let me just... get everything saved and put away. I'll be right there, Azian."

Guilt gnaws at him. It had been a long time since he had broken their routine-- but in this case, he wasn't sure if he had a choice.

Administration seemed to have a vested interest in this particular case. 

The monitor goes dark as the computer shuts down. Eli goes to bed with his wife.

* * *

An eight hour shift quickly turns to twelve, then sixteen, as the aging equipment in Sector C fails. And due to the secret nature of Sector C, with its AnMat and its test chambers, outside departments could not be called to fix them. It was entirely up to Blue Shift. 

And Blue Shift didn't have shit between them.

But Black Mesa didn't care, and the bulk of the Sector C Science Team didn't give a shit either. The guards scurried across the locked down platform long after customary closing hours. Maintenance tunnels were lit up, panels were open, and dusty toolboxes were lugged out to meet demands. Barney himself was sitting atop a stuck elevator, safety locks in place as he replaces worn parts for new ones. 

Beneath him, the chatter of the rest of his squad filtered up, still audible despite the layers of steel and concrete between them. He tries not to focus on it, or the sweat rolling down his face, encouraged by the stuffy tunnel. He also tries to ignore the hissing deep within his ear, inaudible to all but himself. 

His grip slips on the wrench. It cracks him in the knee, but he only curses once. 

Today had started great, but it was turning out to rank pretty low.

"You good up there, Barn?" Hank shouts from below, face visible from the elevator's roof hatch.

"Gimme a sec," Barney says, grunting as he jams the final part into place. "Got it. How many more of these do we have left?"

"Fuck if I know. I think Otis and Martha are done with theirs. Apparently Charlie has... Dr. Freeman with her?" Hank replies, moving aside to let Barney jump back down. The elevator shudders at the impact.

Whoops.

"Dr. Freeman?" Barney asks, brows furrowing. "Don't tell me he's tryna help."

Hank shrugs. "It ain't worth fighting, personally. Whatever gets us home faster. I was supposed to be at Lauren's three hours ago..."

Barney knows the feeling. He had been planning on staying with Gordon tonight, but well, his life wasn't exactly his own to dictate. Not while Black Mesa had a knife to his neck and, regarding recent developments, a gun to his stomach. 

That had been a hell of a meeting.

"Well, this elevator should be good. Mind if I go uh, check out Charlie and G-- Dr. Freeman?"

"Careful, if folks see ya fraternizing with the enemy they might talk," Hank says with a wink. "Go check on'em."

* * *

you're content to help the young technician, considering her partner had been summoned away for yet another emergency. apparently, this particular pair had been brought in from a top-side department, only here because Blue Shift had needed access to elevator parts. base supervision had led to intervention to taking up some of the load, which you were now assisting with.

It also helped that the technician knew ASL, of course. if she hadn't, you would have been more than happy to leave her to her devices. not your greatest instinct, but it is what it is. 

"Okay! You can give me the part now, Dr. Freeman," Charlie calls down from above. she hovers on the edge of the emergency hatch, one arm extended to accept the item.

you gingerly pass it off to her, making sure her grip on it was firm before stepping back. it was a heavy part to take one-handed, but Charlie was capable enough. 

besides, this should be the final piece. then it was onto testing the elevator and making sure the last of its malfunctions were solved.

you look to the open doors, ears pricked to the sound of footsteps.

Barney appears in the doorway a moment later.

"Huh," he says, looking pleasantly surprised. "You are here! What the hell, Doc. It's way past closin' time."

"I wanted to help," you say simply. "This is a two-man job."

"Yeah, I agree," Barney says. "Charlie up here?"

"Up here, Mr. Calhoun!" comes her slightly muffled response. a second later, her face pops into sight. "I'm just finishing up! How's the rest of the floor?"

"This is the last lift."

you step back, letting their conversation wash over you. finally, the sector-wide failures would be a thing of the past.

so you try not to think about the five or six deadlines laughing at you from the middle of the week.

your superiors were not a kind people.

* * *

your dorm is dark when you and Barney finally get home. unsurprisingly, Glockstein the purple toad-- chumtoad, Barney had said suddenly one night-- was sitting on top of your folded up pile of clothes for the morning. as Barney slides the door shut behind him, his single red eye opens.

the chumtoad croaks, a musical sound. you've labeled it a greeting.

"Good to know he's still here," Barney says, voice thick with exhaustion.

you don't reply in favor of shrugging off your lab coat and undoing your tie. with slightly shaky hands, you also unbutton your shirt, tossing it haphazardly onto a table. Glockstein warps away before it can land on him.

figures.

"Awh, you scared him, Gordon," Barney whines. "He went back in his tank."

you don't have the energy to apologize, but you do kiss Barney on the cheek. then you headbutt him gently, letting your forehead rest against his sweaty shoulder.

but it's alright. you don't give that much of a shit, considering what the man's been through.

you sigh in tandem with him, a collective display of exhaustion. 

"I think you have a package, Gordie," Barney says from overhead. you look up, confused, and let the other guide you to the kitchen table. 

it wasn't a package-- but it was a letter. you pick it up with a slightly shaky hand, prying open the sealed flap with as much care as possible. you hated tearing apart envelopes but lost your letter opener.

"Oh," Barney says faintly. "Tomorrow, huh?"

you were going to continue your HEV suit training, after having passed with "flying colors."

a good thing that you try to be excited about.

but they want you in the Hazard Course at seven AM tomorrow.

it was 3 AM now.

* * *

you try not to let the sleep show as you shuffle into the HEV bay. this was a slightly different location than last, but your Mark IV-- yours?-- is waiting for you in its glass pod. once again, it's held suspended by some invisible strings, awaiting access codes and a whitelisted hand. 

this time, Dr. Vance is also accompanied by Drs. Gina Cross and Colette Green. 

you try to quell the pulse of anxiety just beneath your breast. their reputations preceded them-- you should know better than to let that dictate your actions. 

"Good morning, Dr. Freeman. I've heard a lot about you," Dr. Cross says, stepping forward. she extends her hand, which you take, meeting in a firm shake. you do the same with Dr. Green, hoping the tight clench of your jaw would not be read poorly.

"Relax, Dr. Freeman. We'll be helping you suit up today while Dr. Vance takes some preliminary tests, so if you could just stand there-- thank you..."

you take your spot in the center of various machines and monitors once again. the HEV pod hums as its protective barrier is let down, thrumming quietly as some power is fed directly into the suit. the bright yellow glow mixes eerily with the red.

suiting up is much faster with three people than two, you find. the gray skin feels much more pliable than last time as you fit it over your thin jumpsuit, quick to bond to your form.

it helps that Cross and Green both are already very familiar with the Mark IV. you're clad in the orange armor in under fifteen minutes. latches, helmet, and all.

"Welcome back to the H.E.V. mark IV protective system."

"Weapons and munitions management systems engaged."

* * *

"The Hazard Course consists of seven unique micro-scenarios that you will be required to navigate completely solo," Dr. Green tells you. she's accompanying you to the anteroom that contains an airlock. "Of course, we will intervene if you take damage or become otherwise indisposed. You might even get a lunch break!"

you work very hard not to let your anxious brain feed off the ominous lilt to her words. unfounded fears and expectations would not help you here. letting your brain chew on the given information, limited as it was, would also be inadvisable. 

"You ready to go, Dr. Freeman? Once we open these doors, there's no turning back!" Dr. Green says cheerily, resting her hand over the airlock's keypad. she's tapping in the code, leaving the last digit to hang.

you nod. 

you're ready. you can't afford not to be. you wonder what Barney's doing in Sector C.

but that's not really helpful, either, is it?

"See you on the other side, Freeman. You'll be a new man, I promise you that."

she punches in the final digit.

the red light atop the airlock's frame switches green. the doors slide open, hissing softly as they lock into an open position. 

Dr. Green shoves you forward, past the doors, before you have the chance to move.

* * *

you're confronted by a room of mostly stone and concrete. it's narrow, longer than it is wide, and occupied by a stone wall that appears to be well over thirty feet in height. bolted to it is a rusty red ladder. some of its rungs are clearly dented or bent out of shape. 

you immediately look for another path, but the airlock is sealed shut behind you, and nothing else indicates a door or less unsettling route.

nothing for it, then.

forward is up.

the ladder shudders in your grip, but you still mount its lowest rung. one boot, then the second. tighten your grip and pull yourself up, try not to balk at the way the metal shakes. each step is another rung, another foot between you and the ground. what could be at the top of this, you wonder. the bars jump in your grasp. 

you move quickly to ignore the fear of falling. you're a little rough with the bars so you can haul yourself up two bars at a time, reach the top a little faster,

but the next rung your hand wraps around gives. the bar practically disintegrates into rust, covering your chest in a smattering of metal particles. you freeze in place, shocked.

you take a rallying breath. in for four, out for five. 

the next rung your heavy boot lands on crumples. the ladder jerks as your leg goes down on nothing, threatening to take your body with it. around you, the suit thrums-- the only thing keeping you aloft.

the HEV beeps, warning you of erratic heartbeat and high blood pressure. 

the top of the wall is still halfway up. the ladder judders unpleasantly as you correct your grip. the next time you move, it's with a vengeance, without caution.

the final rung breaks away, but you're already past it, clinging to the flat platform the top of the wall provides. you let your head fall, helmet pressed to the concrete as you catch your breath.

"Warning: biohazard detected. Warning: hazardous chemicals detected."

past the thin lip of the wall, just beneath your feet, black water glints up at you with an oily sheen. the fluorescent lights shining down on it do little to penetrate, serving only to illuminate iridescent film and unnerving particulates that hang suspended beneath the surface. through the helmet, you can smell its stench. it bathes the back of your throat.

this is the only way forward. you are filled with great reluctance.

with a shuddering breath, you settle down onto the wall, easing your legs into the murky water. much to your disgust, you can feel the resistance it offers through the suit. 

before you can hesitate, you jump in.

instantly, the suit tightens around you, crushing your chest as the HUD flickers--

"Submersion detected. Auxiliary oxygen deployed! Preventative medical systems deployed!"

pain lances up both your wrists as the suit jabs your wrists, followed by a steady burning. the helmet clicks as, over your mouth, a hard plastic mask is put in place, forcing a nozzle past your lips. 

direct oxygen supply. "99% Oxygen," chirps the HEV. 

you land with a thud on the pool floor. it's pitch black, save for the lights inside your helmet. the murky substance tugs at your hands as you move to punch the HEV's flashlight to life.

"Power levels at 97%."

the high beam penetrates the filthy water for a rough three feet. as you try to step forward, the suit abruptly loosens around your frame. your next step finds you floating; instinctively, you try to propel yourself forward. to your surprise, you can navigate the water with ease, but--

that was probably the only thing that made sense so far, wasn't it? one's mass didn't change within water, but buoyancy allowed for a sense of weightlessness and greater mobility while submerged. the suit had adjusted accordingly, instead of acting as dead weight. you were free to rise to the top, which you do, 

but your flashlight illuminates a platform. you grab onto it, squinting when a ring of green lights flare up in response. you pull yourself inside, headfirst.

there's a current. the HEV suit chimes something unintelligible as the fast-flowing water grabs you and sucks you in.

[HAZARD COURSE 2: FIRE]

in a rush of water, you're thrown haphazardly through an opening. your vision blurs as the back of your skull slams into the padded dome of your helmet, dazing you.

"WAKE UP! Whoop! WAKE UP! Whoop!"

when you come to, ears faintly ringing, the HEV's synthesized voice is screaming. a strangled cry leaves your throat that hurts more than makes noise; in a panic, you haul yourself to your feet, only to lurch back--

around you, the ground is steaming, an irregular circle of extinguished fire. vapor is rising off your armoured body in rolling, wispy waves, mixing with the thick smoke choking up the rest of the room. beneath the smoke, smoldering, flickering piles of burning debris sat.

to your right, one such pile collapsed with an audible whoosh. instantly, the heat intensifies.

"Warning! Heat damage detected! Extreme heat detected!" 

the HUD flickers as multiple icons appears. one is flashing red, a gas mask silhouette. you break into a dead sprint forward.

there's no time to look for a clear path-- there's fire, smoke, and swirling clouds of sparks. 

"Heat damage detected!"

the impact of your boots on tiled flooring is softened by the sheer amount of burning detritus. 

"Heat damage detected!"

left leg slips, so you grab something tall and black and spindly in reflex. it's hot to the touch. the muscles in your hands spasm.

"Blood loss detected! Morphine administered!"

the brace crumbles beneath your touch a second later.

you vault yourself past it, right leg leading. 

green ring flares amidst the hellfire haze. grit your teeth against a silent scream, slam into the airlock door, pound it until it starts to open. grab the doors, feel the suit convulse and squeeze, wrench them apart faster faster--

thank god for the morphine, even as it makes your head swim. 

fall through the door and collapse into a world of black.

[HAZARD COURSE 3: BLACK]

ten seconds pass. the HEV, ever living, operates as it should. from a distance, you can feel the underskin writhing in strange ways along your arms and legs. maybe your skin pitches as it weaves itself back together. 

are your eyes open or closed? it's dark in here.

maybe the suit doesn't glow as brightly as you thought. maybe you stumble trying to stand back up, or miss the flashlight the first three times. the high beam flares on.

it splashes back at you. stone wall.

"Power levels at 80%," whispers the HEV.

at the fringes of your vision, an opening yawns. you pad toward it, shamelessly using the wall to keep you upright. 

you try not to think about the numbness in your fingers. hope to God it's the morphine.

the opening is narrow, so you shimmy through it sideways. the HEV's bulbous chestplate scrapes against it slightly. it's all stone walls and corridors here. you try not to think about how you might be claustrophobic. you try to ignore how your heart is starting to race again and your world lurches with any sudden movement.

another slot in the wall that you creep past. flashlight spills out into a void.

there's nothing here. 

then, with a great shaking, something is. roaring from the left, a platform slams into place, flush with the corridor you're clinging to and with your destination roughly ten feet across.

increased vitals, the HEV complains. 

before you can work up the nerve to cross, the platform starts to slide. it's retreating-- to the right, you note. it had come from the left. how long did it stay? god dammit, you didn't count. it feels like forever passes until the platform disappears once more.

fuck. 

your mind starting to slip, letting wants and fears inside, is not a good sign. the ground vibrates underfoot. in the next moment, the platform is back.

there's a lot of power behind whatever's propelling it, you think.

you throw yourself across it, practically falling onto the other side. it's sliding out from under your legs just as you clamber into a crouch-- too close, too close.

the helmet visor is fogging up with your panting breaths. the HUD overlay glitters, obscured.

take a rallying breath. one, two, three, four, hold. out for one, two, three, four. only stand when the world stops swinging wildly. take shallow, short steps forward.

here, the stone walls have disappeared, offering open space. unfortunately, the flashlight extends far enough to expose another drop off and the pitiful width of the floor you're standing on. all too soon, you're standing on the edge of another precipice. 

you try to peer into the drop-off.

a fan blade stares back.

the fan itself is huge. five giant blades connected at the center, dusty with disuse. they do not shine beneath your flashlight. they look as if they might scrape the walls, should they run.

you look up. there's no path on the other side, but there is a green o-ring decorating the ceiling.

the HEV complains of high blood pressure.

nothing for it. one way forward, and it is vertical.

you wonder how you can turn it on. did you miss it, trying to cross the platform? the ground shakes underneath you. shunk, says your past. you do not want to backtrack.

you walk the edges of the platform. as you do, a tile depresses beneath your left boot, making you freeze. was that the trigger? just as you start to strain for an indication--

a pattern appears on the floor. bright orange panels, forming the shape of an arrow. one by one, they blink off.

there's several possibilities here, you think. 

you hope your first solution is the only one.

once more, you depress the panel. as the first light of the arrow turns on, you jump for it.

it clicks off. quickly, you do the same to the others. each one makes a different note that's muffled by your helmet. upon landing on the final button, you nearly fall as it sinks lower into the ground than the others. 

"Power level 73%," the HEV chimes.

in place of the original tile, a pedestal is rising, a bright red button glowing on a slightly-angled face. pleased, you make your way towards it. you try not to think about what you'll have to do immediately after.

there's a lot of pleasure to be had in pressing a red button. you punch it down, smiling as it emits a satisfying beep. it's the little things, it seems.

the HUD shimmers as it starts to read off contaminants, no doubt triggered by the first shaky cycles of the industrial fan below. clouds of dust are coming off the blades in larger puffs as the speed picks up and the vibrations go directly through your boots and up your legs. mask filter at 60% viability, says the HUD.

the last room must have really done a number on it.

you rub your palms together, finally feeling the sting. the morphine must be wearing off. 

the fan groans as it kicks up speed one final time. the wind is a cacophony by now-- perfectly audible through the helm, threatening to shake your skull apart. you grit your teeth against it. 

one,

two,

you step off the edge. 

your body plummets.

yet, before the chopping fan blades can reach you, you start to rise. the violent, turbulent drafts are pushing you upwards, away from a certain, bloody death. the HEV whines about heightened vitals.

you're just happy to be alive. 

you shut your eyes against a sudden onslaught of light, air leaving your body as the hurricane slams you against something solid. a ceiling, probably, or even the wall. 

"Minor fraction detected. Morphine administered."

sharp pain radiating out from your left shoulder and into the rest of your body distracts you from the loss of your organs, body now free-falling toward hard steel flooring. 

"Anomalous materials detected. Atmospheric pressure interference detected."

if you were more conscious, then maybe you would have noticed that you were not, in fact, plummeting. instead, you were descending slowly, even gently, toward the ground. you would have also had your interest piqued by the HEV's alert, but alas--

you land, some forty seconds later, with your left arm pinned beneath your stomach. 

hot white noise penetrates the morphine. with a ragged, broken sound, you flop onto your right, tears leaking from your eyes because every breath disturbs your shoulder. even the short, rapid breathing of hyperventilation sends minuscule bolts of pain through your body.

the HUD of your helmet wavers in and out of focus. you stare past it, struggling to get your bearings. the room is brightly lit, but incredibly empty. hell, the airlock doors on the other side are completely unobstructed. 

the HEV suit squeezes in odd places. you bite down against another scream, throat burning. there's a steady itching sensation in both your arms-- possibly a continuous stream of painkillers, you think blearily. it's not doing a whole lot.

but it's enough.

you try to keep your left shoulder immobile as you fold your legs beneath you. the right side of your body strains, supporting the bulk of your weight until you can bend one leg and propel yourself upright.

the suit squeezes again. vertigo turns your world into a flatspin, but the HEV keeps you standing. small mercies.

you clench your jaw until your molars creak. 

in swaying intervals, the vertigo subsides. the first step you take goes wide, which has you stumbling forward with less control than you'd like. your body feels... different, somehow. lighter. the weight of the HEV suit--

what had the HEV said earlier? you frantically search your HUD. two icons blink back at you.

you have no idea what they mean. but this room behaves peculiarly, like water. buoyancy. reduced gravity.

"Anomalous materials detected," the suit whispers into your ear. you look down in confusion. your boots, covered in soot and muck and ash, are hovering over a collection of four large panels. a black seam surrounds them, possibly containing hinges. 

your shoulder is throbbing through the morphine. 

you kneel down beside the panels and start to prod.

the one closest to you bends toward the center. if you put all your weight down, maybe-- there! huffing, you wedge your gloved fingers into the gap, grabbing the edge of the tile and pulling.

it flips open with enough force to send you backwards. your vision swims, left side jostled, but you ignore it in favor of dragging yourself across the floor to peer into the hole. it's a glass box, partially obscured, but contents on display--

an array of familiar yellow crystals, humming with energy. throughout the formation are large chunks of red, similar in shape and pulsing with energy. an electric feed, you think. from where? 

and why was an electric current enough to bend gravity? 

if they were the specimens you knew, the ones that made up the bulk of your Black Mesa research, then what the hell was happening here? gravitational effects had not come up once in any of your experiments, papers, or studies. you entertain the thought of breaking the glass or further demolishing the surrounding mechanism.

"Dr. Freeman, please continue the test," reverberates throughout the room in the waxy, monotonous tones of the Black Mesa announcement system.

the panel snaps closed.

it only ever opened because they wanted you to open it. 

with a defeated sigh, you get back to your feet and make your way to the airlock. it opens without ceremony.

[HAZARD COURSE 5: COMBAT]

the next room is dressed up like a shooting range. the far side is taken up by three stalls spaced several feet apart. from here, you can see three different types of guns, one to a stall. handgun, shotgun, SMG.

you have no idea how you're going to fire them, considering your shoulder. what had Dr. Green said? they'd intervene if you were injured? you flex your hands, wincing at the pull of burned flesh. unless you had missed it, there hadn't been a medbox anywhere.

you take a steadying breath. one, two, three, four, hold. out for five. 

slow-going is your check of the perimeter. gravity returned to its natural attraction leaves you feeling heavy and weird-- maybe you were exposed to the low-gravity zone longer than you thought. maybe you were finally coming down from the adrenaline, or maybe your lack of sleep was finally getting to you.

everything feels like lead. you lean your back against the wall of the shooting stalls, breath hitching as pain scatters throughout your shoulder. fracture detected, the suit had whispered. what kind? where at?

shoulder blade, probably. how bad? no way of knowing. 

"One hell of a show you've been putting on, Dr. Freeman," a voice says from behind.

you jump to life, flinching full-body as, once again, you strike your injury. someone blurry and red steps into view, accompanied by something wobbly and brown. HEV suits, you think dully. who?

the good doctors. of course. you struggle to get your eyes into focus, but once you do, you see that there's a medbox between them. it's suspended on a wheeled shepherd's hook. 

"Think fast," Dr. Green says, tossing the medbox's cable at you.

the HEV suit is the only reason you grab it. with shaking hands, you press open the panel and stick the tapered plug inside.

shunk, goes the needle.

down goes your body.

* * *

"Y'know, I don't think those things are supposed to make him do that," Colette says, head jerking toward the prone frame of one Dr. Freeman. She has her arm slung around his waist, holding him up alongside her partner, Gina. "Maybe he's reacting badly to somethin' in'em?"

"...By passing out?" Gina asks, brow furrowing. "Been awhile since I've had to use these. Besides, the HEV suit would act up if something was going wrong."

Colette nods agreement. The least they could do for the man was keep him on his feet. It was extremely disturbing to feel the serum at work, though. Eugh.

Something thuds behind them. She glances back at the door they came through, slightly nervous. 

"Shame this is the room he had to heal up in," she hums. "Oh, I think he's waking up..."

* * *

you were, indeed, waking up. your eyes flutter open with a gasp, the HEV suit humming pleasantly around you. clumsily, you try to move your legs, surprised to find yourself somewhat upright.

your shoulder aches, but no longer hurts. 

"Can you stand, Dr. Freeman?"

startling, you pull away, twisting to face the two women. ah, they were probably the reason you were standing.

"Yes. Thank you... for the help," you say, shoulder twinging as you go through the motions of sign. "Sorry."

"Happens to the best of us, Doctor," Dr. Cross says amicably. "You ready to start the next phase of the test? We'll be teaching you how the HEV handles firearms."

that explains the guns. you nod slowly. 

you follow Cross to the first stall. on it, the familiar shape of the Glock rests. she tosses it at you.

once again, the HEV's the only reason you catch it.

"Glock 17 identified and registered," the suit whispers. the HUD jitters with the addition of a munitions list. 17 rounds.

"Now, try holstering it, Dr. Freeman," Cross says. "Over the shoulder."

you frown. the HEV doesn't have a holster, not to your knowledge, but you check the safety on the handgun before following her instructions. to your surprise, the back of your chestplate starts to shake.

the gun is pried from your grasp.

"Glock 17 added to rotation," the HEV chirps.

"Now, ever shot a shotgun?" Dr. Green says, holding up said weapon. "This is the first one I ever shot."

you shake your head. she beckons you forward, pressing the shotgun almost bodily into your grip.

"SPAS-12 added to rotation," says the suit.

you have no idea what the hell that is. possibly the name of the gun. 

"The HEV suit makes it a dream to shoot, honestly," Dr. Green is saying, but you find that there's something distracting you. a chirping sound, just audible over the buzz of your armor. soft whoops and cries.

a thumping.

you let the gun go slack in your grip as you focus on the distant sounds. but they weren't... distant, were they? no. 

"What the hell is that?" Cross says from behind you, reaching for the yet-untouched firearm. 

you look over Green's shoulder. there's a door, jostling on its hinges. you don't remember seeing a door the last time you checked the room- where the hell had it come from?

why was it shaking?

you set the shotgun aside, letting it rest. tentatively, you approach the door.

"Foreign lifeforms detected," the HEV warns.

the door shatters into splinters and chunks of wood. a strange, rotund creature lands messily on the concrete at your feet, its legs splayed out. you take a step back, shocked. it's not like anything you've ever seen before.

the size of a large dog, it seems to only have three legs, and a multitude of eyes. its body is decidedly canine, down to the paws at the end of its spindly legs. the creature whines mournfully up at you.

more curious than afraid, you kneel down, offering a hand. its foray through the wood door seems to have left sizable lacerations across its flank. you try not to shudder as about half of its compound eye rotates to stare, fixated on your open palm.

very carefully, you stroke the top of its hump. the creature trills.

"Foreign life form identified as Houndeye," the HEV informs you.

then lots of things happen at once.

one of the good doctors shouts as, through the ruined doorway, another Houndeye runs inside. it's producing a long, high-pitched whine that grows in intensity, followed by other cries in various other pitches that all overlap, resonances touching each other--

the Houndeye beneath your palm flips over, revealing a gut full of teeth,

your brain goes fuzzy as finally, the screaming reaches a crescendo, punctuated by gunfire,

"Internal bleeding detected! Vital signs dropping!"

flash, bang, everything goes dark.

"Seek medical attention immediately!"

**Author's Note:**

> Charlie is a friend's OC.


End file.
